Chapter Text
Peacock
The cafeteria was alive with everyone’s conversations. Most dragons would find it nice, comforting even. But Peacock wasn’t most dragons. The voices always tangled up with the thoughts and overwhelmed them. Any crowd of dragons with over 5 individuals, they tried to avoid. Unfortunately, there weren’t many places they could go in a cramped ship in the middle of the ocean. They sighed, trying their best to tune everything out while they grabbed a herring from the table and bit down. The mix of sound started to make their head throb, to the point where they started chewing on the bones of their herring to suppress the pain. I knew I should’ve bought a skyfire or something. They hissed quietly in regret. One thought managed to stand out above the rest and catch their attention. PEACOCK! HEY, PEAKS, I WANNA TALK! They heard Realgar project to them. They growled under their breath. “Goddammit.”
Realgar walked up to them and happily rubbed up against them, steam curling up into the air but not burning them. They smiled happily. “Peaks! How’s the job that I gave you going?” Peacock rolled their eyes. “Oh, well, it would be fine if the cameras actually fucking worked.” Realgar chuckled. “Oh, come on, Peacock, I’m sure you’ll warm up to it eventually! Besides, it’s nice to have me as the captain, right?” Peacock glared at them, but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” Realgar draped a wing over them affectionately. “Come on, Peaks. Maybe you’ll make some friends here!” Unlikely… they grumbled. They eyed the hallway anxiously. Something felt wrong. They remembered something from last night, something that left them uneasy.
They had woken up with a startle and a violent migraine. Their vision was blurred, but that didn’t stop them. They quickly opened a small drawer and grabbed a little sketchbook, then reached for an inkwell to dip their claw in. They’d done this many times before, but it was never in any less of a panic. They started scribbling at the paper as fast as they could, before the image could leave their mind. After half an hour of drawing, their vision finally cleared and the headache left. They panted, the adrenaline leaving them and forcing them to acknowledge how exhausted they were. They examined the image they had sketched. It was of The Skeld. The ship they were about to board tomorrow. The Skeld was being held above the water by a disgusting tendril of black ink, positioning it to hover just over a gaping, predatory jaw. It was an omen. Something was going to go wrong on that ship. They had to be there to prevent it.
“Uh, guys?” Ghostberry asked, bringing Peacock out of their memory. Ghostberry twinned their tail around their leg. “Has anyone seen Windchill? You know, the animus, Ice/Wind hybrid, everybody loves them?” As if they summoned them with the question. Windchill staggered into the room. “Oh! There you are! Are…are you okay?” Windchill was gripping their neck, blue blood staining their claws. They eyed everyone with violent desperation, and Peacock heard their quiet, fading thoughts, begging for help. They opened their mouth, a bit of blood dripping from the side. “I…I…en…encha…” those were their last words; the small line on their neck that was previously unnoticeable spread across their entire neck, spurting out blood as the light left their eyes and their head fell off of their body. They fell to the ground with a heavy thud, bright blue blood spilling from the severed arteries and veins.